


Your Words Color My Soul

by Cynicwithatwist



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Slow Burn, Team Dynamics, probably some angst along the way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-06-06 16:53:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6762298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cynicwithatwist/pseuds/Cynicwithatwist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy paints pictures with words, Clarke with colors.  Octavia thinks if they’d just quit being stubborn and work together they could win Ark Publishing’s Newcomer Award and land both of themselves jobs in the children’s branch.  </p>
<p>Or Bellamy and Clarke reluctantly team up to create a masterpiece and achieve their goal of entering the children’s book industry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad Options are Better than No Options

  _February 2016_

_5 months until the deadline_

_6 months until the award presentation_

“All I’m saying is we’ve been at this for a month,” he said, “and no matter what we do we can’t seem to work anything out.  Maybe it’s just not meant to be.” 

Clarke sighed, slumping against the face of the glass table with as much elegance as a drunk college student, phone pressed to one ear.  Today had been anything but pleasant, between Anya riding her ass about paperwork that wasn’t even her responsibility and running – _literally running_ \- into Bellamy, spilling coffee on him in the process, she really wasn’t up for such a conversation.

“We don’t have any other options Finn,” she gritted out, glad they were talking via phone instead of face to face.  This way there was no chance she could strangle him.  “Unless you have another artist to work with that I don’t know about?”

Octavia sat across from her, watching intently.  She raised an eyebrow in question when Clarke caught her eye, but the blonde simply shook her head in response.

“Actually, I do.  We met a few weeks ago and started chatting; turns out we seem to be on the same page.  We have an entire storyboard and everything.  What she and I can do, the energy flowing between us, that is what teaming up to write a children’s book should feel like.  I’m really sorry Clarke, but I think we’d be better off working on separate projects.”

The line went dead. 

A moment of silence passed, Octavia taking a sip of her iced tea, Clarke watching the beads of sweat run down the side of the glass.

“That bastard hung up on me,” was the first thing she said, quickly followed by, “and he broke up with me.”

A smirk slithered across Octavia’s lips, eyes flashing deviously.  “I didn’t know you two were together.”

Clarke shot her a look.

“You know what I mean.”

Teaming up with Finn had been her best chance, and if she was being honest, her only chance at entering Ark Publishing’s contest.  The company itself was a major children’s book publishing powerhouse, and winning their Newcomer Award was her ticket in to the industry. 

What was she going to do now?  Clarke told stories with gentle lines and pastel colors, images as soothing as a blanket on a snowy night.  She had no use for sharp, uniformly printed words (like cages, she thought, harsh straight lines instead of soft spilled ink), not until now anyways.

“I’m never going to be able to find another writer in time.  Not to make something worth winning at least, and if the book isn’t perfect there’s no point in creating it in the first place,” she grumbled. 

“Well I know a guy who writes,” Octavia offered, “he’s actually looking for an artist to work with for the competition, too.  He’s as bad with people as you, but I think it could work.”

Considering her options were currently none, Clarke figured she may as well give this guy a go.  She really needed this, would beg for it even.  Her father had always said if you had to choose between what your heart wanted and what your brain insisted on, go with the heart.  Clarke was the type to use logic over emotions as her internal compass, so very different from her free spirited dad.  Since his death she had really been evaluating her life, the path she was on and the choices she had made to get there.  Her brain had led her to pharmaceuticals, to a job she tolerated at best.

Her heart wanted her skin to be smudged with violet and emerald and sapphire. 

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble on your part, I’d like to meet him,” Clarke replied.  Surely this mystery man couldn’t be completely atrocious.

“You’re in luck” Octavia sang, mischievous expression plastered on her perfect place.  “He’s just getting in.”

The door knob jiggled, difficult as always, before the door screeched open with exasperation.  Bellamy strolled into the Blake house, haphazardly tossing his jacket across the back of the coach and only stopping when he noticed the two girls in the dining room.

Clarke stared with what was probably a horrified expression. 

“Welcome home big brother,” Octavia chirped, still wearing that feral grin, one Clarke was sure even Satan was jealous of.

“Hey, O.”

That voice - gravelly, like an unpleasant walk across sharp rocks with bare feet - snapped Clarke out of whatever state of shock she had been in.  She swiftly kicked Octavia under the table.  The other girl yelped, sending Clarke a glare. She knew Bellamy and Clarke were incompatible in every way, oil and water, sunshine and rain.  It was laughable to even think they could work together without murdering one and another.

“Oh, you’re here too, princess” Bellamy observed, as if he hadn’t been aware of her presence the entire time.    

“So Bell” Octavia cut in, before the two could begin their usual bout of bickering, “you’re still looking for an artist, right?  To enter the Ark Publishing contest with.”

He ran a hand through his hair, curls twisting in every which direction as if he had just gotten out of bed.  It was a nice look on him, though to be fair, everything was a nice look on him.  Clarke may have hated his guts, but she wasn’t blind.  Bellamy was physically attractive in an unexpected way that caught one by surprise.  Not overly tall but broad, impossibly thick hair falling into endlessly dark eyes, freckles dancing across warm toned skin.

It was almost a shame he was an asshole two thirds of the time. 

“Yeah,” he sighed.  “Why?”

“It just so happens Clarke is also looking for a partner,” Octavia informed him, flicking a dramatic hand toward the blond.  Those bottomless eyes settled on her and Clarke sat up straighter under their scrutiny.  She wouldn’t be cowed.

“I don’t know,” he finally said, an almost dismissive current running through his words.

“Don’t think you could keep up with me?” Clarke snapped in response.  She was being more hostile than the situation called for, she realized that, but she was tired and hungry and a little disappointed that her potential partner had turned out to be Bellamy.

“Hardly,” he growled.  “If you really want to try, fine.  At this point we’ve both got nothing to lose and even a bad option is better than no options.”

 As much as she hated to admit it, Bellamy had a point.  Sure, Clarke despised his attitude and that stupid little cocky smirk he got when he knew something she didn’t and the way he bristled and chased off guys he deemed shady even though it wasn’t any of his business, but Clarke was a professional.  She could handle this.  She could handle him.

“Sounds like a plan.  You can come over to my place on Saturday, we can start brainstorming.”

“I’ll be there.”

It almost seemed as if Bellamy was looking _forward_ to working with her.  But Clarke knew better, it always ended with fire when it came to the two of them.

“Look at that, both your problems have been solved.  You’re welcome,” Octavia chimed, flouncing off to the kitchen, casting one final look over her shoulder at the team she’d created.    


	2. Dangerous Lunch Outings

  _March 2016_

_4 months until the deadline_

_5 months until the award presentation_

 

Clarke ran an exasperated hand through her hair, taking a deep breath and doing her best to not let any ill will escape from behind clenched teeth.  She glared at her partner from across the living room but Bellamy remained oblivious, typing away on his computer with amiable strokes.  Clarke briefly wondered if she could successfully smuggle a body out of her building without being seen. 

“So, are you going to let me take a look at what you’ve got?” she asked, tone sharper than intended.  _Professional Clarke, remain professional._

Bellamy made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.  Octavia had warned her than once he became immersed in his writing it was practically impossible to pull him back to the real world.  Clarke understood that sentiment, she was the same when working, growing lost in swaths of gold and ivory and scarlet until she was so tired she could no longer keep her eyes open.

But currently she needed Bellamy present.  Though they’d accomplished a general storyline over the last month she was still foggy on the specifics.  That had been fine in the beginning, Clarke focusing on her basic sketches as Bellamy strung together character charts and whatever else writers did.  Now, however, Clarke was finished with sketches and she wasn’t going to start the detailed illustrations until she was one hundred percent certain of what they needed to be in order to match up with the written portion of the story.

Rising from her seat, Clarke marched over to where Bellamy sat on her couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, wide rimmed glasses sliding down his nose, dark hair looking like a messy twist of vines curling around one and another.  She plopped down by him purposefully.  Bellamy’s gaze never left his screen.  With a sigh Clarke reached over and snatched the glasses sitting precariously on his nose, setting them down on the arm of the blue and purple checkered couch.

“Hey, princess,” Bellamy snapped, whipping around and _finally_ acknowledge her.  “How the hell do you expect me to write anything if I can’t see?  Kind of defeats the purpose, don’t you think?”

The weight of his glower rested firmly on her face, but after many years of knowing the man, the sharp edge it carried that served to intimidate the masses had no effect on her.  Clarke glared right back.

“I wouldn’t have had to rely on such drastic measures if you’d simply answered my question,” she said sourly.

Bellamy’s eyes widened for a moment, surprise marring the annoyance and taming down the force of his scowl.  He ran a hand through his hair, causing tufts to stick out at awkward angles.  Clarke had to fight the urge to smooth them down.

“Sorry about that” he said, “I kind of leave the real world when I get wrapped up in a story.  What is it you wanted?”

Some of the fight left her veins as she took in his genuine expression.  Truth be told, if she hadn’t been so irked at being ignored, Clarke might have found the whole fiasco amusing.  There was something endearing about a Bellamy Blake that was so excited to be writing a children’s book that the rest of the world faded away to quiet background noise.

“I just wanted to read what you have so far so I can begin the real work.”  Clarke placed Bellamy’s glasses in his hand with a small smile.  “But that can wait.  I overreacted because I’m starving, what do you say to a late lunch?  We could probably do with some fresh air after being cooped up in my apartment all day.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment, tilting his head in an almost puppy like manner.  Clarke had to bite her lip in order to keep a grin from spreading across her face.  There was no way in hell she was going to give any indication she found any facet of him adorable.  Bellamy thrived off of such things, always puffing out his chest like a peacock and smirking smugly when he caught a girl checking him out at the bar.  His ego certainly didn’t need to be fed.

“Sandwich shop around the corner?” he asked, closing the lid of his laptop and moving it from his lap to the coffee table.  He stood then, offering a hand to Clarke and grinning when she took it.  She made a face at him as he helped her up and wondered how long this moment of peace they had seemed to tumble into would last.

“Sure.”

It didn’t take the pair long to reach Polis.  The restaurant was one of Clarke’s favorites.  She loved buildings with character and Polis was just that, all aged wood and a sprawling stone patio that was lovely to eat on in warmer weather.  Flower boxes, though currently bare thanks to the still chilly weather, edged every window.  Clarke pulled the powder blue door open, a tingling sounding their arrival.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or are our Clarke and Bellamy somewhere together,” Jasper called out from behind the counter. 

“Without supervision, too” Murphy added, managing to look both thoroughly impressed and utterly bored at the same time. 

Clarke rolled her eyes at her friends (or, friend.  She wasn’t sure if Murphy actually _had_ friends.  Sometimes she thought he only hung around them to see what stupid shit Jasper and Monty would get up to next) before striding forward to the display case which housed a selection of sweets.

“Dessert first, princess?” Bellamy rumbled from behind her.  “Didn’t realize you had a sweet tooth, especially considering how bitter you can be.”     

Clarke knew he was messing with her, knew Bellamy was well aware of her love affair with sugary foods, but she reached behind her to blindly smack at him anyway.  Though she’d been aiming for his shoulder or chest she froze as soon as her hand connected with his face.  Bellamy let out a grunt before quickly cursing under his breath.

Clarke immediately whirled around.  Bellamy’s face was scrunched up and he was rubbing at his left eye, glasses sitting partially on his fingers and mere seconds from plunging to the floor.  Murphy cackled from behind the counter.

“Shit.  Bellamy, I am so, so sorry.  I didn’t mean to catch you in the eye,” Clarke sputtered, moving his glasses so they sat on his head before she cupped his face and drew it closer to her own.  “Here, let me take a look.”

“I don’t think this is something that needs medical attention, princess.”

He was watching her intently with his one good eye, hands coming up to circle her wrists.  Clarke assumed he was going to pull her hands off of his face but he didn’t move.  A startling feeling unfurled in the pit of her stomach.  Clarke ignored it.

“At least let me help you to a table,” she finally said, letting her hands fall to her sides.  Bellamy relinquished his hold on her instantly.

“I can manage on my own.  Besides, if you help I may end up with a broken foot or something,” he grumbled.  A flash of guilt shot through Clarke and though she tried to hide it she must not have done so fast enough because Bellamy quickly added, “but if you want to make it up to me, you can buy me lunch.”

That seemed fair enough.

“Fine.  BLT, extra bacon, right?”

Bellamy nodded before heading off.  She turned back to face Jasper who was wiggling his eye brows suggestively, a dopey smile plastered fully across his face.

“What?” Clarke demanded tartly.

“Oh, nothing,” Jasper sang.  “Except you and Bellamy are here eating lunch.  Together.  Alone.  And you know just how he likes his sandwich.”

“We’re working with each other and I’ve known the guy for years, it’s not that strange I know what type of sandwich he prefers.  Now drop it or I won’t give you a tip.”

Jasper whined and made a dramatic face which only spurred Clarke into a fit of laughter.  Jasper had always been the clown in their group, and his silly ideas were just that, silly.  It didn’t mean anything that Clarke knew how Bellamy liked his favorite sandwich fixed.  Through Octavia she’d known the guy for a decade; obviously she’d picked up little tidbits about him. 

It was completely and entirely normal.

There was nothing unusual about it.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back with the second chapter! I know my chapters tend to be on the shorter side, but that's how I roll so sorry about that. I'd love to hear any comments y'all have, and if you want, y'all can come hang with me on tumblr (I'm simul-ut-unus) :)

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing a chaptered modern setting fic for The 100. I've been wanting to try for a while now, so here we go. I'd love to hear what y'all think! :)


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